


Love yourself so we have something in common

by vampwoozi (heaflower)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Opposites Attract
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heaflower/pseuds/vampwoozi
Summary: Hansol likes Seungkwan, or so everyone says. Seungkwan is sure they're just making things up.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 92





	Love yourself so we have something in common

*

Age 7

“Seungkwan likes Hansol,“ sing-songed the kids at the playground, one particularly bulky kid pushing little Seungkwan to the sandy ground. His mother would reprimand him later for dirtying his overalls and shake her head at his messy blond hair. He would have to take a long bath until the last remains of cold sand stuck under his fingernails were gone.

His face felt like it was on fire and his heart was beating away in his chest, but he gulped the shame and anxiety all away, staring at his so-called friends. “No, I don’t!”

“Seungkwan likes Hansol!” giggled Han, sucking on her lollipop. She was the youngest out of three. The cute pigtails which Seungkwan envied her for stood up on either side of her head, moving with each said word, like they were mocking him too.

“I said I don’t!!” Seungkwan balled his hands to fists.

Hyerin, the oldest, grabbed his arm and pulled him up with little effort. She was at least three heads taller than him, grinning like a predator at his prey. She dragged him across the playground, dominating him by her sheer mass.

“Ouch,” Seungkwan muttered as he was pushed against a tree. He glanced at the sand pit where the rest of his friends stood, curiously staring at him and Hyerin but too intimidated by her to make a move.

“Seungkwaaaan,” Hyerin moaned, leaning down until she was face-to-face with him. Her big black eyes seemed to stare right at his soul. She moved her face a bit to the side and whispered into Seungkwan’s ear, “You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell.”

Seungkwan was frozen to the spot. He heard his own heartbeat in his ears and the world was a bit blurry at the edges, his breath labored. Hyerin sounded very convincing. It might be fine to tell her how much he liked Hansol’s presence, how Hansol was his favourite human being on earth besides his mother, maybe.

“I think Hansol likes you too, you know.” Hyerin smiled sweetly, sending a shiver down Seungkwan’s back. All adults lie, he knew that. Kids weren’t that good at it yet but adults could say whatever they wanted and make it seem believable. Hyerin wasn’t an adult yet but she was older and hovering like this over small Seungkwan, she almost seemed like one to him.

“Why?”

“Uh, because I asked him. And he said he does.”

Seungkwan stared at Hyerin.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

Seungkwan shook his head, quickly. “No, no. I believe you, I do.” His heart was still beating away in his chest, but he formed his next words with newfound clarity, “I still don’t like him though.”

Hyerin pulled a grimace. She took a step back, shaking her head as she exchanged a glance with her sisters. Seungkwan wasn’t able to calm his heart until later that day when he was sitting in the bathtub, hot water engulfing him completely, only leaving his brown pair of eyes and cherryblossom-like formed lips dry.

“H-a-n-s-o-l” he said, his voice mumbled to his own ears. He liked that; the way sound waves traveled through water. He couldn’t hear his mother in the kitchen, having a heated argument with his father, for example. But he heard the mellow sound of his tired heart, beating lightly against his ribs. And when he moved his toes against the metallic bath plug, it made a funny sound that Seungkwan liked. A sound like scratching one’s finger across a blackboard.

He stayed there, underwater, until his mother forced him out of the tub, saying it wasn’t healthy for his skin to stay much longer in there and to look at how his fingers have become all wrinkly. Seungkwan wished he could show Hansol how funny they looked, as if he was some sort of alien that the USS Enterprise stumbled upon. He knew Hansol would giggle and show off his full set of teeth, and Seungkwan wouldn’t hesistate to plant a fat kiss on Hansol’s cheek because his best friend’s gummy smile was his favorite thing ever.

But Hansol didn’t really like kisses. Sometimes he would just pull a grimace at Seungkwan’s skinship, other times he would straight up push Seungkwan away and wander off to some secluded space at the playground where he could play by himself.

“Hansol is introverted,” his mom explained one day, patting Seungkwan’s head. She pushed a water ice into his face. “It has nothing to do with you, honey. He just needs a lot of alone time.”

Pulling up his snort, Seungkwan planted himself next to his mother on the bench. Sucking on his Coca-Cola-flavored water ice, he wondered why he was simply too much for his friend to handle. Maybe he ought to be quieter. But this thought was quickly forgotten when Hansol took his hand later, pulling him towards the bushes to show him something interesting.

“That’s me and that’s you,” Hansol said, pointing at two particularly disgusting snails. Seungkwan scrunched up his nose. “That’s stupid.”

“Mom says you go to hell if you curse a lot.”

“MY mom says that you go to hell if you touch dirty insects,” Seungkwan retorted. Still, he sat down next to Hansol and picked up one of the snails that his friend was so fascinated by. Was it true that French people liked to eat those? He could not imagine someone putting one of these slimy things into their mouths.

He placed the snail back to its friends. Having reached the mature age of seven, he felt it wasn’t okay anymore to be playing with snails, worms and ants. They were already going to school, they ought to behave like good boys. But Hansol never cared much for such things. Seungkwan watched his friend pat one of the snails on the head.

“Hansol,” he asked, and Hansol lifted his head, black strands of hair falling into his blue eyes.

“Hm?”

Seungkwan picked up a stone and played around with it, tossing it up in the air. “Hansol, do you still like me when you play on your own?”

“Yes, of course.”

Seungkwan sucked in his lower lip. He felt Vernon’s finger poking him in the ribs. Still, he didn’t look up. “Are you _intro…ted_?”

“What’s that?”

Seungkwan shrugged. He scanned Hansol’s facial expression for any telltale signs of a lie but couldn’t find any. Hansol just appeared to be rather dumbfounded. “You should pay more attention at school,” Seungkwan told him, and with newfound cheerfulness, he jumped to his feet and pointed at the nearest tree.

“I bet I’m faster!”

And gone was he, followed by a laughing Hansol who chased him across the playground.

Later, when they both ended up laying on the cold sand, half on top of each other, limbs spread out like they were starfishes or creating angels in snow, Seungkwan turned to Hansol and whispered into his right ear that was bright red from the cold air, “Who’s your favorite?”

Hansol didn’t shift away. “My favorite what?”

“Person.”

“I dunno. I like everybody. No, that’s not true.” Frowning, he considered the grey sky above them. Seungkwan focused on the tip of Hansol’s nose instead. He carefully touched it, letting two fingers climb his nose bridge.

“Do I have to choose?” Hansol asked. Seungkwan reached the bald spot between his eyebrows. He drew each finger to the side– he’s seen his mom do that to dad before, as a means to relax him when he had one of his migraine attacks. Hansol’s eyebrows felt hairy. Seungkwan giggled before turning serious once more.

“Yes, you have to choose.”

Hansol glanced at him. “Who’s your favorite person?” He turned his head to the side and their noses were almost touching now. So close, yet so far.

“I’ll tell you later,” Seungkwan mumbled. “You first.”

“I don’t wanna go first.”

“That’s unfair.” Seungkwan pouted. Hansol didn’t cave in. “Fine,” Seungkwan sighed, turning away from his friend, facing the ever so grey sky with its mellow clouds.

“Hansol.”

“Hmm?” Hansol scooted a bit closer.

Seungkwan looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “Hansol. That’s my answer.” Noticing Hansol’s smirk, he dug his finger into the sand, already tasting sweet revenge. But Hansol leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, catching him off guard.

“Let’s play hide and seek with the others,” he said, straightening up.

Seungkwan released the sand in his hand. “You didn’t answer my question yet.” Looking up at Hansol, he already knew that his friend wouldn’t answer any time soon. He could either draw this out and possibly cause a fight, or he could be happy about the kiss and beat Hansol at hide and seek. He opted for the latter.

The ‘Hansol likes Seungkwan’ spiel continued on for years to come, with both of them blissfully ignoring the matter altogether. During summer days, their friends wrote the names _Hyerin + Len_ on the floor with chalk, and sometimes one could find _Seungkwan + Hansol_ written right underneath. And neither of them two tried to erase their names; it was ultimately the summer storm rainfall that washed them away.

It was bittersweet. Seungkwan liked the sound of their names next to each other like that. It just made sense for them to be together. 

*

Age 8 1/2

Hansol had the exact same blue eye color as his mother, and her curly hair but wavier and black instead of brown. He had a straight nose like his dad’s, and he insisted that he didn’t look like his sister at all but Seungkwan thought they smiled the same way.

Seungkwan sometimes admired their family pictures, standing on his tippy toes so he could get a good look at Hansol in his Sundays best. His father was a successful businessman and his mother a famous artist, and they both seemed to shine with youth and health on these pictures. Like they truly loved each other and their family. Seungkwan had never seen his father look like that at his mother.

He knew his dad owned a small ID picture of him, had seen it lean on his dad’s windshield before. He was a taxi driver and worked long hours into the night, almost never home on time to place a dry kiss on Seungkwan’s forehead. Sometimes Seungkwan stayed up way past his bedtime, hiding under his pillows until he could hear the sound of his father’s footsteps pass by his room.

He knew he was loved but sometimes he felt very alone in this world. And he got scared of that thought a lot, still too young to arcuately conceptualize the hugeness of the world. What helped was thinking of the world as the pages of Where’s Waldo in a kaleidoscope, with Hansol being Waldo.

The love his father offered him was a sorrowful, apologetic one that twisted Seungkwan’s stomach, but looking at these pictures of Hansol’s family, Seungkwan dreamed of a different kind of love, one that was shiny and bright, engulfing him with warmth. But this was also just an illusion, like most things in life were.

Seungkwan would never be able to forget Hansol’s nineth birthday, only being able to recall their short-lived soccer game that ended in Sophia accidently kicking the ball into her dad’s nuts. He remembered her tears and her fear too, when her father slapped her across the face, so violently that she fell to the ground. The sound of it was still clear in Seungkwan’s memory, causing him to shiver.

His father was nothing like that. He was just absent, that was all. One time, his mother said something along the lines of, “Hansol reminds me a bit of your father,” concluding that this must be why they were so inseparable, and why Seungkwan wouldn’t shut up about him for one minute, always starting his sentences with “Actually, Hansol…”, “Hansol said...”, “Once Hansol did…”, and so on.

She wasn’t totally wrong when she said that but Seungkwan still blew up on her, childishly sticking out his tongue and declaring his mother was very, very foolish. Because Hansol wasn’t quiet and distant when it was just the two of them. He would talk nineteen to the dozen, sharing every strange and random thought with Seungkwan, enjoying his best friend’s undivided attention.

“Hansol has an attitude problem,” some parents would say. They disliked how stubborn Hansol was, how he would get into arguments with his teachers over minute things. He had strong opinions and was proud of them. Seungkwan liked his confidence. It was rather funny how Seungkwan was confident when it came to human interaction, speaking in front of the class or joking around with the cool kids– but it was himself, his opinions, his ideas and dreams that he was ashamed of.

Hansol never felt the need to talk much to others. Seungkwan caught him blush sometimes, and look at his feet, too. But Hansol was never embarrassed to speak his mind, to express his true self. So Seungkwan did the talking and Hansol prep-talked him or comforted him when needed.

“His mother is from America,” the ladies said. “You know how these foreigners are. No manners.” Seungkwan didn’t listen because he had heard people say the same thing about him, for different reasons. He was too loud, always had to chat in class and never listened to his elders. “That boy doesn’t get enough attention at home,” pretty ladies in their fancy dresses would say and laugh while glancing at him and his mother.

“Stupid owls,” Seungkwan would mutter under his breath so that his mom wouldn’t hear. But he told Hansol the same thing the next day, giggling.

*

Age 11

Seungkwan was eleven and they kept arguing. He didn’t know why but he always said things that were rude, he didn’t mean to, he was just always upset and hurt by little things Hansol did or didn’t do.

Like when Hansol didn’t pick him as a game partner but Wonwoo instead (because he’s way better at Math, or whatever, and wins all the stupid games). Or when Hansol wouldn’t hug him back and just pretended to be an ice block, ignoring Seungkwan’s whining until he pushed Hansol to the ground, exclaiming “If you don’t like me then why are we friends?!”

On one of these days, he hid in his room to sulk and buried himself under the quilt like he used to as a small child. He had felt then, with his hands and feet drawn in comfortably, that if his whole body was hidden under the blanket then nothing, somehow, could reach him. He was safe. From Hansol with his big smile and stupid kind eyes.

“Friends don’t fight like you do,” his mother said over lunch, eyeing up Seungkwan’s swollen face. “Just call him, I’m sure he’ll forgive you, honey.”

Seungkwan ground his teeth. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, playing with his soup. It was always him who had to apologize, and he was sick of it. Hansol had always been better at playing these games, jumping through Seungkwan’s hoops effortlessly, being hot one moment, cold the other.

Seungkwan didn’t want to be invisible, hated to be ignored though sometimes he treated others as if they themselves were, just to cope or maybe as a means to punish. But Hansol endured. He never suffered in the ways Seungkwan did during periods of radio silence between them.

“Go away, Idiot!” Seungkwan would mope, and Hansol would shrug and say, “Alright,” and disappear. And then it was Seungkwan who ran behind the other, begging for forgiveness, trying to solve the issue.

And this time it wasn’t any different either. Hansol eventually took him back, and Seungkwan felt like an old toy that was all dusty and used, one that should’ve landed in the trash can long ago. It helped that Hansol had bought them friendship bracelets, declaring that he simply found them _cool_ and Seungkwan ought to wear them every day, even at night and during showers.

“Alright, I’ll wear it,” Seungkwan said and it lit up Hansol’s entire face. He was grinning so brightly it almost hurt looking at him.

Seungkwan gazed down, at his and Hansol’s wrist aligned, fingers barely touching. He liked the way the bracelet made his wrist look dainty, so fragile. How come people never pay attention to the loud ones, the ones who are good at pretending they are fine when they aren’t, who never appear to be hurting? Seungkwan wished Hansol would take his hand, squeeze it reassuringly. No one ever seemed to think that Seungkwan with his big mouth and thunder thighs was easily hurt, was fragile, too.

Hansol’s thumb grazed his hand. “You can wear it even if I’m mad at you,” he mumbled. He looked a bit shy right now with the tips of his ears a light red, and out of the corner of his eyes, Seungkwan imagined seeing Hansol blush too.

“Even if you’re really really mad?”

Hansol nodded, humming. “Yes, even then.” Their eyes met for a brief moment, and from the way Hansol looked at him right now, one could get the idea Seungkwan was small and cute, something precious that Hansol wanted to protect.

“Oh, okay.”

Hansol smirked. “Don’t you wanna know why?”

“Pff.” Seungkwan pushed his friend in the sides, drawing his hand away from Hansol’s. The magical moment between them was over. “I don’t need to ask stupid questions. I already know it.”

“You don’t know jack shit,” Hansol giggled, grabbing Seungkwan by the arm and pulling him back on the sofa before the boy could storm out. “It’s because….”

Seungkwan glared at him.

“Because….”

“I swear to god, Hansol. I will kill you.”

Hansol giggled some more but stopped when Seungkwan attempted to break free and jump up for a second time. “Alright, alright,” he started, grinning. “I gave you this bracelet, so you know. . .it’s not that bad when we fight. Everybody fights. I still like you, even if I’m mad you.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Hansol chewed on his lower lip, anxiously looking from the ground to Seungkwan’s blank face back to the ground and so on.

“Okay,” Seungkwan finally pressed out, with a burning sensation in his throat. He knew his eyes were a watery red. Life would’ve been so much easier if he could only maintain a poker face like Hansol could.

Hansol shifted on the sofa. “Feelings are super fleeting. They arrive and leave as they want, that’s what my dad said anyway. But what stays is our friendship.” He reached out and placed a thumb on Seungkwan’s cheek, and to Seungkwan’s surprise, he was whipping away a hot tear.

“Don’t cry, idiot.”

“Sorry,” Seungkwan muttered, drawing his face away. The touch of Hansol’s thumb remained as a memory, burning away his skin. _Stupid crybaby._

“Let’s play something, alright? I don’t want your mom to scold me because I made you cry.”

Seungkwan nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He put his confusing feelings aside, easily going back to cheerful and giggly Seungkwan, as you do when you’re eleven and your best friend is a tad too philosophical for his age. Things are still simple. At least you can tell yourself that.

*

Age 12

“Sollie, do you think I’m fat?”

Hansol’s head shot up from his book, and his round glasses slid an inch from his high nose. “What?” he said, exposing a set of white braces. There was a bit of spinach left on them and Seungkwan supressed the urge to curse him out for it.

“Lin said I have huge thighs.” His lower lips protruded slightly and his leaned his head slightly to the right to give off an even stronger appearance of a kicked puppy. This was one of Seungkwan’s infamous flaws: sometimes he wanted, or needed, people to just tell him what he wanted to hear.

“That’s true.”

Seungkwan’s mouth fell open. “What?!”

“You have nice thighs, but you aren’t fat.” His eyes darted back to his book and flipping a page over, he added, “Why do you care about what Lin thinks anyway?”

Seungkwan said nothing. He looked at his thighs, considering Hansol’s words carefully. Later that day when Hansol and Dino were playing ball, Seungkwan sat next to Dokyeom on the grass and asked, “What does it mean when somebody says your body part is nice.”

“Uh,” Dokyeom frowned. “It depends on the body part, I think. Like, if it’s your ass or your boobs, I think it means they want to sleep with you.”

Seungkwan puckered up his nose. “Ew. That’s disgusting. And what if it’s something else?”

“Hm, if it’s about your smile or your eyes, they love you.”

Having grown increasingly frustrated, Seungkwan poked his friend in the sides. “It’s not about that, okay!”

“Hey! How am I supposed to know?!” Dokyeom stood, glancing down at Seungkwan. “I’m gonna get us some chocolate milk. Want anything else?”  
  


Defeated, Seungkwan shook his head. “The thighs.”

“Huh?” Dokyeom stopped in his tracks. “I don’t think they have that. . .”

“No, idiot. I mean what if they say your thighs are nice. What does that mean?”

Dokyeom leaned his head to the side, thinking. “It probably means they like how your thighs look,” he concluded, turning around and heading towards the vending machine.

“What kind of compliment is that,” Seungkwan muttered under his breath as he placed a hand on his thigh, spreading his fingers so that almost all of the era was covered. Hansol should’ve said something about his eyes, or his smile. He had dimples after all (even if they were hard to spot).

But Seungkwan already knew that Hansol was everything he himself wasn’t. He was only twelve, but he could pick up on the subtle way adults treated them differently, how Hansol was always praised for his handsomeness, his talents and confidence. “Oh, that boy is destined for greatness,” the teachers said, patting him on the shoulder.

Someone like Hansol cannot fail at life. So, it was frustrating sometimes, how his friend couldn’t see that himself, complimenting Seungkwan on his social skills, not realizing that being born with an extroverted spirit paled in comparison to Hansol’s flawless genes. He wasn’t just unique, he was one in a Million, a Billion. A star shining brighter than the sun itself, lighting up the entire darkness of the sky, warming up even Pluto. And Seungkwan felt like Pluto sometimes, not even a real planet, always on the outskirts of life, an outcast living in a dark and quiet world. Fake smiles and forced confidence couldn’t mask this loneliness sitting deep in his bones.

“One day, Hansol is going to drive the ladies crazy,” Seungkwan overheard Mrs. Oh say during lunch break. Mrs. Lee only laughed, but Seungkwan was shaking, his hands balled to fists and his tiny body smouldering with barely suppressed rage.

“Oh, Seungkwan?” Mrs. Oh gaped at him in surprise. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Whatever,” Seungkwan muttered under his breath and was already heading down the hall, more running than walking, hot tears spilling from his eyes. He didn’t know why he was crying or why he was briming with rage. He couldn’t understand himself at all.

*

Age 14

Teenage years came with a lot of changes for Seungkwan, as they commonly do. Most of it was infuriating, and it didn’t help that Hansol was a perfect angel, with smooth skin and no body hair (who still got food stuck in his braces, but hey, everyone has their flaws).

It was the sight of his own pimple-covered back in the mirror, the way his hips seemed to have doubled, and how none of his jeans would fit anymore because of his huge behind– and nobody seemed to have to go through this but himself. Seungkwan had been chosen by the gods themselves to be punished by humanities crimes and now he had to go through puberty all by himself, and totally failing it.

Could you even fail puberty? Seungkwan wasn’t sure, he just felt like he did. Nothing was going right these days. And Hansol was still getting good grades (even though he was more rebellious than Seungkwan, always listening to music during classes and never doing his homework) and just seemed to grow in length, slowly but surely being able to tower over him.

“Why you gotta be so moody? Just chill,” Hansol would say and Seungkwan was sure he could feel a vein pop as pure rage filled his pimply body, pumped to the brim with hormones.

“Life’s easy for someone like you. You have no idea what I’m going through–“ he would scream at Hansol’s face if he could handle the aftermath. He was way too reliant on Hansol as his support friend who brought him ice-cream, sushi and chips (a good combination when you’re really going through it) and spent the afternoon with him on the couch, watching stupid TV shows that made no sense but were good to make fun of.

In that sense, Seungkwan often felt that if Hansol’s life was really perfect, he was the only flaw in it– he demanded so much from the boy, and Hansol was right, he’d been moody all year, blowing up randomly at any little thing and feeling unloved and rejected by everyone around him. Hansol was good at calming him, grounding him and telling him what he needed to hear, like, “Kwannie, you’re doing your best,” and “You’re super handsome and there’s no need to diet,” and “You’re my best friend in the entire world. Nobody can take your place, bro.”

But what could Seungkwan could give back to this sweet and perfect human being he was privileged enough to call his friend? He felt awful with his hairy armpits and legs, huge, inflamed pimples and oily hair. And there was Hansol beaming at him as if Seungkwan were the center of his universe. “You’re a special young boy,” Hansol’s mum had told him once. They had been standing in the yellow kitchen of the Chwe’s, with Seungkwan awkwardly leaning on the counter and Hansol’s mum smiling at him over a freshly baked apple pie. “Hansol talks about you all the time.”

“Oh, really.” Suddenly his hands were so much more interesting to look at.

“I’ve never seen him be clingy like he is with you,” she said, shaking her head. Leaning over the pie, she closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent that began filling the small room. “Smells good, doesn’t it?”

Seungkwan nodded. “Wonderful. You’re a good baker, Melody.”

She looked up, considering him with a soft smile. “Even when he was little, he wouldn’t want to cuddle much. And you know how he gets; he seems to live more in his made-up worlds than the real one. Sometimes I would catch him talking to himself as he sat in his room.” She laughed, eyes a bit glossy.

“Mom, can you not.” Hansol slid into the room, leaning onto the counter next to where Seungkwan stood. He gave Seungkwan an odd look, “You okay?”

“You startled me.” Seungkwan blushed, pushing Hansol in the sides. “Melody told me some interesting stories about you being a totally insane kid, talking to yourself and stuff.”

Hansol rolled his eyes, already used to Seungkwan’s antics. “You make it sound so dramatic.”

“Are you sure you weren’t possessed as a kid? Are you sure you aren’t possessed right now?” Seungkwan sing-songed, and the atmosphere wasn’t awkward anymore at all, and he spent the rest of the day giggling and fake-fighting with Hansol as they enjoyed the amazing apple pie.

*

Age 15

“What are you doing?” Hansol’s voice sounded muffled and when Seungkwan looked up, he realized why: his friend had his mouth full of donut, chewing away like there was no tomorrow.

Seungkwan scooted to the side to make some space for Hansol and lost his trail of thought for a fleeting moment, watching his friend lick off the icing from his fingers. There was something really interesting about fingers and lips.

“Why the camera?” Hansol asked, having successfully licked his hand dry like a dog. Reminding himself to be grossed out, Seungkwan pulled a grimace.

“I’m becoming a youtuber.”

“A what?”

“You heard me right.” Seungkwan pointed at his iphone which he had propped up on a couple of books. “I’m shooting my first ever youtube video. Soon, I’ll be super famous.” He patted Hansol on the thigh. “But don’t worry, Sollie. You can hang out with me on Mondays and I’ll buy you lunch.”

Hansol started to tear up from laughter when Seungkwan hadn’t even finished his sentence and he was now gasping for air. “M-Monday,” he pressed out, his face concerningly red and sweaty.

“Yeah, since Mondays suck and I need someone to cheer me up and give me energy to survive the rest of the week. A Sollie a day keeps the doctor away.”  
  


“Cringe,” Hansol winced, now seemlingly recovered. Quick to notice Seungkwan’s pouting, he went on, “Okay, let’s shoot this thing.”

“What?”

“Your youtube thingie.” Hansol pointed at the handwritten notes that lay before Seungkwan. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, since this is _my_ video, and it’s about _me,_ your presence is a tad redundant,” Seungkwan explained, picking up the first sheet of paper. “But since I’m so kind, I’ll let you join.”

Hansol took a bow, grinning from side to side. “Oh so kind Seungkwannie, how could I ever repay you?”

“Never.” Seungkwan pressed the recording button and started reading off the first question of many: “What’s your favorite candy?”

“Hold up. What exactly are we doing?”

“Uh, we’re doing a Q&A, duh!” Hansol’s dumbfounded expression demanded more information. “ _Question and Answer_ time, dumbo. So my viewers can get to know me better.”

“But you have no viewers– Ow! Yet! I meant yet!”

Seungkwan released Hansol’s ear from his tight grip and gave an angelic smile. “Do you want to participate in my video or not? Just help me answer these questions.”

“Alright,” Hansol grumbled, leaning closer so he could take a look at the first question again. “What’s your favorite candy? Uh, hamburgers, right?”

Seungkwan snorted. “You have no idea. Wow. To call yourself my best friend and not even know my favorite candy. . .”

Hansol sighed deeply. “Just answer, dude.”

“Fine.” Seungkwan sucked in his lower lip, biting on it for a moment. “I guess I just don’t really like sweets. I’m more into salty snacks. . . and Hansol likes chocolate. And ice-cream, and marshmallows and– Hey, stop it, Sollie!”

Hansol pressing his nose deeper into Seungkwan’s ticklish neck, clinging onto his waist and laughing like a mad lad. “I– I–“

“Get off meeee.” For some reason Hansol felt like a heavy sack of potatoes or something, and Seungkwan couldn’t manage to move the boy a mere centimeter. “I guess this video is already ruined,” Seungkwan sighed and Hansol rested his chin on his shoulder, smiling happily.

“What’s the next one?”  
  


“Uhmm, snow, rain or sun?”

Hansol giggled. Seungkwan couldn’t be possibly more annoyed. “What?”

“How’s that even a question.”

“You come up with better one,” Seungkwan moaned but Hansol just said, cheerful as ever, “Snow’s _cool.”_

Seungkwan was literally speechless. “You really just say stuff, don’t you?” Not giving his idiotic friend another chance to speak, he quickly continued, “Lately, I really like when it’s raining because I sleep better. The rhythmic sounds of the raindrops against the window are really calming.”

“Uh-huh.” Hansol pointed at the next question, not paying much attention. “Are you in a relationship? Nope.” His arms around Seungkwan’s waist tightened as he spoke. It was weird.

“Sollie, I can’t breathe.” Seungkwan attempted to wiggle free but Hansol refused to let go. “You’re all sweaty and gross,” he further complained, but nothing seemed to change his friend’s mind. Hansol just went on to the next question in line, unbothered. “Dinner dates or brunch dates?”

“Brunch,” they said in unison. It was ridiculous because neither of them had been on a date before but hey, you have to give the people what they want. Questions ought to be answered.

“Do you prefer poems or love letters?” Seungkwan read out loud and Hansol frowned. “Isn’t that, like, the same thing?”

“No, of course not!” Seungkwan shook his head. “You really have no idea of dating.”

“As if you knew more.”

“I actually do know a lot of things.”

Hansol raised a single eyebrow. It looked cool and at the same time made Seungkwan mad because he'd always wanted to be able to do that. “Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. Hansol decided it was a good time to bite him in the shoulder.

“Ouch,” Seungkwan whined, ready to kill someone. He let himself fall to the side, away from Hansol’s sweaty face and his many sharp teeth. A couple more moments of ringing for air (and the upper hand) later, Seungkwan accidentally kicked his foot against the pile of books and at the sound of his phone hitting the ground, Hansol let go, startled, and Seungkwan was finally free.

“Is the screen broken?”

Seungkwan shook his head. “Nah, thank god.” He shot Hansol a telling glance. “And this is why you can’t be a youtuber with me.” He didn’t mention how he didn’t like the idea of Hansol becoming a youtuber because he was Hundert precent sure Hansol would blow up on the platform.

He could already imagine the tons of comments under the video offering of be Hansol’s girlfriend. For one thing, Seungkwan was supposed to be the star of the video, and secondly, maybe even more importantly, Hansol was _his,_ his best friend. Yes. His best friend, of course.

“Can we eat pizza and watch High School Musical or something?”

Seungkwan looked up, startled. Hansol was spread out on the carpet floor, resting on his arms and showing off his double chin. What a pose. “Since when do you like HSM?”

“I don’t,” Hansol muttered, pushing against Seungkwan’s thighs as he spoke. “But you love it. I know because you always bell out all the lyrics when they start singing.”

Seungkwan sucked in his lower lip, considering Hansol for a moment. “Fine. But I sing better than all of them together, you have to admit that.”

“Sure, Kwannie.”

*

Age 16

It was _Hansol likes Seungkwan_ all over again, just now it was Seungkwan who was the awkward kid who hadn’t spoken a single word all evening, sitting on his butt during the whole party and staring into the void. He wasn’t being himself at all and Hansol seemed to notice.

Seungkwan already knew what Hansol was thinking: Poor, Kwannie. He’s insecure again. It was true. He did feel like an outsider, like someone who didn’t belong, and Vernon obviously did because he was handsome and cool, and everyone loved him for being so chill and aloof or whatever. But Seungkwan was a loud and obnoxious drama queen, who clung onto his cooler friend Hansol.

Or at least that was what everyone seemed to think at this damn party. It didn’t help that their judgmental glances and hurtful words resonated with something deep inside of Seungkwan.

“Let’s go,” Hansol said, pulling Seungkwan up.

“What?”

Hansol rolled his eyes, pulling him forward and pushing him into the closet. “Oh my god,” Reun said behind them and her flabbergasted expression was the last thing Seungkwan saw before Hansol closed the closet door.

It was a small space, and the air was stuffy and Hansol was already a head taller– he never seemed to stop growing– and Seungkwan was freaking out.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

Hansol shrugged. “It’s just seven minutes in heaven.”

“Yeah.” Seungkwan gulped. He’d never felt so awkward with Hansol around. This was new. New and scary. It was dim but his eyes still noticed the tip of Hansol’s tongue grace his lips, wetting them. Wait– WETTING THEM? Preparing for. . .?

Seungkwan took a step back, flaring up like a red potato. “S-sorry, I can’t do this.” And he really couldn’t. Not like this, with Hansol thinking it was just a meaningless thing that was part of a game. Seungkwan’s heart could withstand a lot of pain but not this.

Hansol’s fingertips brushed his arm. Hansol looked at him, unimpressed. His eyes, dark, were visible because they were much darker in that moment than the closet they were in. When he leaned closer, Seungkwan didn’t have it in him to reject those soft looking lips— instead, his eyes flattered shut as their lips brushed.

It was a mere innocent touch at first, soft and shy as you would expect from a 15-year-old. When Hansol drew back a little, their noses brushed and Seungkwan sighed out in release. His tense shoulders dropped a notch and he leaned forward to close the gap once more.

This was when Hansol’s mouth grew greedier and he began to nip at Seungkwan’s lips, sucking them in and biting lightly on them. It was a new, overwhelming sensation that made Seungkwan shiver and– to his own horror– moan.

He drew back, embarrassed. “Wait, I need a moment.” It was then that he noticed that Hansol’s hands had found their way on his hips, and one of them was currently squeezing his butt.

“Uhm, did you like it?” Hansol’s cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

Slowly, Seungkwan nodded. He didn’t know what this meant for their friendship, or what Hansol was feeling and thinking right now, but he didn’t want to lie. He had enjoyed the kiss. 

“Me too.” Hansol grinned, reminding Seungkwan of his now straight teeth. His braces were off for a few months now. It was still strange to see Hansol without them, he looked so grown up, like he wasn’t that skinny pale boy that would cling to Seungkwan and annoy the hell out of him while giggling his ass off.

He probably still was that awkward, shy kid underneath the layer of hormonally charged teenage confidence that he oozed. Seungkwan knew all the embarrassing secrets of that handsome boy with the dark eyes. So why was he feeling insecure and awkward around his best friend all of a sudden? It was so stupid.

Seungkwan quickly pecked Hansol on the lips and then whispered into his friend’s ear, “You better not kiss other people.”

Hansol laughed. Seungkwan felt Hansol’s warm breath against his nape. “Sure,” he muttered before giving Seungkwan’s butt cheek a light squeeze.

“You’re impossible.” Seungkwan pushed Hansol off of him and pushed the closet door open, leaving a giggling Hansol behind him.

“What happened?” Kyeom wondered, amazed at Hansol’s red head and his seemingly endless fit of laughter. Seungkwan shook his head, saying that Hansol was just impossible but he did hold hands with Hansol for the rest of the party, finally enjoying himself a bit.


End file.
